


I've Got You

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-24
Updated: 2010-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach calls Chris, who's had a really bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this report](http://ontd-pinto.livejournal.com/120881.html) of a Q&A toward the end of the run of Lieutenant of Inishmore

He’s barely in the door of his apartment when he gets a text from Katie Pine of all people.

 _Call him_.

It takes him a minute to remember why he’s even got the number stored on his phone – it was the surprise party they’d put together for Chris’ last birthday.  But as far as Zach can remember, Katie hasn’t called or texted him since, so it must be important.

When Chris doesn’t pick up immediately, Zach starts to panic a little.  Is Chris hurt or sick or something?  On the third call, just when Zach is considering calling Katie, Chris finally picks up with an irritated “What?”

“Hello to you, too.”

“It’s almost eleven.”

Chris doesn’t sound ill or injured – just irritated, and it’s rubbing off on Zach.  “No, it’s almost two.  You’re lucky I was out late tonight.”

“You’re the one that called me.”

“So I did,” Zach sighs, scrubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand.  “And why do you think I did that?”

“You’re bored?  Drunk?  I don’t know.  I’m really not in the mood for this.”

Great.  Chris’ mood is so pissy that his own sister foisted him off on Zach.  He takes a deep breath.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Chris grumbles, but Zach waits.  “I’m just… really fucking tired, is all.”

That’s what gets Zach’s attention.  When they were pulling all-nighters on the Trek set, Chris was usually the one keeping everyone’s energy up.  Even when he looked like he was about to fall over, he never complained.  Oh, he’d gripe about Zach’s ugly sweaters and John’s singing voice and Karl’s general existence, but never about the work.  “Bad night?” Zach asks.

Chris laughs humorlessly.  “Bad night.  Bad week.  Bad fucking _everything_.  Why did I decide this play was good idea?”

It breaks Zach’s heart a little.  Chris had been obnoxiously excited for Inishmore – a chance to get back on stage, to stretch his acting muscles and explore his range.  Zach remembered making quite a few jokes about exploring Chris’ range before Chris told him to shut up unless he intended to fly back west and make good on them.  It had inadvertently been a painful little reminder of the distance between them.  Not that they’d ever been exclusive, even before Zach moved to New York, but neither had they been too far apart to get to each other if they needed to.

“The run ends next week, doesn’t it?” Zach hazards, the words sounding feeble to his own ears.

“Yeah.”

“You gonna be glad that it’s over?”

“Yeah.  No.  I don’t know.  I thought…”  He trails off, but not before Zach hears the little quaver in his voice.

Trying to make his voice gentle, Zach asks “What’s going on, Chris?”

“It’s nothing.  It’s stupid.  It’s so fucking stupid.”

Zach clams up, unable to decide whether to push the matter or let it go, but Chris speaks up again.  “Why didn’t you come see it, Zach?”

“I couldn’t, you know that.  I wanted to.”  A wave of guilt washes over him.  His schedule’s been pretty tight, but there were a couple of days between Margin Call and Angels rehearsals where he could’ve shifted something around, maybe gotten away for a day at least.  He could’ve gone up after Comic Con and taken a red-eye back, though he’d barely had time to sleep at all that weekend.  Honestly, he didn’t think Chris would be so upset about it.  “I’m sorry, Chris.  I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just not…   I’ve lost it, I think.  I can’t…”

For a second Zach wonders if the connection’s bad, but it would seem Chris really is that inarticulate.  “You can’t what?  What did you lose?”

“I’m second-guessing myself, you know?  On stage.  It’s getting harder to stay in the moment.  I’m fucking up the easy stuff.”

Zach can’t think of anything to say that Chris doesn’t already know, about eight shows a week and the tendency to go on autopilot.  He hears a muted choking sound over the phone line; fuck, Chris is _really_ upset.  If Zach were in LA right now, he’d drive over to Chris’ house and…  “Chris?  Hey, Chris, where are you right now?”

“Couch.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Christ, Quinto, do you really think I’m in the mood for that?”

“Okay, that came out wrong.  I just wanted to make sure you were in something comfortable.”

“I’m wearing those pajama pants with the shredded drawstring and an old Berkeley shirt.  That turn you on, big boy?”

Chris’ tone is still dark, but there’s a hint of levity to it, and something loosens ever so slightly in Zach’s chest.  “Go get in bed.”  He hears Chris start to protest again and cuts him off.  “Just trust me.  I’m not trying to get into your phone-pants or anything.”

A soft snort.  “Phone-pants.  God.”  Blankets rustling.  “Okay, Casanova, I’m betwixt the sheets, as per your request.”

“You’ve got the body pillow in there with you, right?”

Chris grunts a little – he’s very sensitive about the body pillow.  No one’s supposed to know about it, lest it detract from his macho mystique.  Zach is pretty sure the $12 half-caff sugar-frosted lattes do that anyway, but the coffee’s a bit of a sore spot, too.  Zach assumes the grunt was an affirmative.

“Get comfortable.  Stack the pillows how you like them.”

He hears some shifting and pillow-fluffing.  “Want me to put you on speaker?” Chris asks.

“No, keep the phone up to your ear.  I want to be as close to you as I can.”

Chris makes a soft noise that Zach can’t quite interpret as positive or negative, but he doesn’t protest.  Zach waits until he hears Chris settle in.  “Get on your side.  Make sure you’ve got the body pillow right up against your back.”

A little more shuffling.  “Okay.”

“Pull the covers up over you.  Are you comfortable?  Too cold?  Too hot?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Good.”  He takes a deep breath – either Chris really needs what he’s about to do next or Chris is going to be mocking him for the next century.  “Chris, baby, close your eyes and relax,” he murmurs, letting his voice drop low and soft.

“You trying to help me sleep?” Chris chuckles, but it’s not a derisive sound.

“Not yet.  I miss you so much, Chris.  I don’t think I’ve told you that, not in so many words, anyway.”

The silence stretches out so long that Zach is afraid the phone’s gone dead.  But then he hears, “I miss you, too.”

“I know we said we could see other people, but I haven’t touched anyone else since you visited.  At first I thought it was because I didn’t have the time, but I haven’t even wanted to find someone else.  Not even for one night.”  He hears Chris start to speak and cuts him off.  “It’s okay if you have.  I’ve been away for a long time, and I haven’t exactly made you any promises.  But what I’m thinking is, once I’m back in LA, maybe I should.”

“Maybe,” Chris says, and his voice sounds so small.

“I want to be there with you so badly, just put my arms around you and hold you.”  By now, Zach is stretched out across his own bed, the phone pressed tightly to his cheek as though he can feel Chris’ skin on the other end of the line.

“All these pillows,” Chris says softly, “Kinda feels like you’re doing that now.”

Zach smiles.  “That’s right.  That’s me behind you, around you, holding you close, keeping you safe.”  Maybe it’s too much, but Chris doesn’t seem to mind, humming softly with pleasure and Zach can practically hear him starting to melt into the bed.  “Can you feel me?”

“Yeah.  Feels good.”

“Imagine my arm wrapped around you, my hand pushing under your shirt.  I’m just going to stroke my fingers across your belly, slowly, just the way you like.”  Chris sighs happily and Zach’s dick perks up at the sound, but for once he ignores it.  “I love touching you here.  Your skin is so soft.  I want to circle my fingers around your bellybutton.”

“That’s kind of weird, Zach.”  But there’s no judgment in Chris’ voice.

“Don’t care.  I like that it makes you squirm a little against me, snuggle deeper in my arms.  Now I’m going to run my hands over you, slowly.  Up your arms.  Down your sides.  Just a warm, slow rhythm until you forget everything but my hands, the softness of the bed, how heavy your eyes are.”

“Zach,” Chris sighs, and it’s not a complaint, not a request.  Just his name, simple and heartfelt.

“Chris,” Zach murmurs.  Chris is relaxed now, receptive to Zach’s words.  He speaks softly, almost hypnotically.  “I know you’re tired.  You’re working so hard, and you’re doing so well.  And you’re almost done.   Just one more week, and you can take all the rest you need.  Go to the beach, read those mystery novels I know you’ve got stacked up.  You can finish this play and be proud of yourself.  _I’m_ proud of you, Chris.  I’m so proud of you.  You’re so good at what you do, you amaze me.”

“ _Zach_ ,” Chris says again, his voice breaking.

“Shhh, it’s okay.  I’ve got you.”  Zach’s lips are smearing against his phone now, desperately needing some contact, even if it’s only the barely perceptible vibrations of Chris’ voice.  “I’ve got you, baby, and I’m not letting go.  You can sleep in my arms tonight, okay?  Or every night, if you need to.  Whenever you need me, I’ll be right beside you, whispering into your ear.”

“Don’ hang up,” Chris whispers, his voice already starting to slur with exhaustion.

“Not ‘til you’re asleep.  Go ahead and sleep now, I’m right here.”

Chris murmurs something indistinct and Zach listens for his breathing to slow down and even out.  He doesn’t hang up until he hears a soft snore on the other end of the line.

When Zach wakes up the next morning, there’s a sharp crease down his cheek where his phone had been pressed between his skin and the pillow.


End file.
